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away.

4 D ESTRUCTION
    For a moment Alex thought he’d woken up on the moors. It was dark. The air was misty and dank, like a wet morning in Northumberland. Then the dawn chorus started. Not the polite chirrups of a few thrushes and sparrows greeting the day, but a full-throated, deafening rabble of jungle creatures up in the canopy as the sun rose.
    Alex squirmed out of his sleeping bag and shivered. As he got out of his hammock, he saw Paulo sitting up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Amber was already on her feet, bent over, injecting her insulin. Hex was checking that his palmtop was still in its protective carrying case – a reflex action on waking. Alex smiled at the sight and then found he’d just checked he had his survival kit and knife. Maybe Hex wasn’t so strange after all.
    Alex filled his cup with water from the sterilized supply. Hex was next to him and he handed over the container. Hex’s face was grim. ‘This bloody noise,’ he said through gritted teeth, before stomping away to boil water on his little stove for breakfast. But Alex was enjoying the dawn chorus. It certainly beat waking to the breakfast show.
    ‘Aaaargh.’
    Alex looked round to see Amber hopping about on one leg as though she’d trodden on a spike. The other leg was thrust into her camouflage trousers. The fabric was soaking wet and clung to her skin.
    ‘What’s up?’ said Alex.
    ‘It’s slimy, and clammy, and gritty—’ She took a deep breath and put the other leg in roughly, pulled them up and fastened the waistband quickly, then did a vigorous jogging war dance to warm them up. ‘Urgh, that is disgusting.’
    Hex dunked his rations pack in his mug and smiled. ‘That’s why it’s called wet kit.’ Then he put his shirt on and his smile disappeared.
    Li pulled on her wet shirt and trousers as quickly as she could, then launched into an explosion of karate kicks, trying to get warm.
    Alex had got his shirt and trousers on with gritted teeth. Now he was psyching himself up for a very wet sock. He turned it inside out and found a glistening leech clinging to the material.
    Paulo shrugged his wet shirt onto his bare back. Amber and Hex watched him, waiting for the reaction. He didn’t even flinch. Not a flicker. They looked at each other, amazed.
    Li came up behind them, still jogging on the spot, as Paulo pulled his trousers on, taking his time as though they were perfectly comfortable. She was rubbing her wet socks together in her hands, trying to warm them. ‘Wet, dry, smelly – he simply doesn’t notice, does he?’
    She wasn’t just talking about the wet kit. At times they’d had to go undercover in slums and Paulo had happily put on putrid rags, stiff with filth.
    Paulo leaned over, inspected a wet sock and put his bare toes into it without a murmur. Silently, Amber and Hex shook their heads again.
    Everything went back into their bergens: hammock, ropes, poncho, stove and dry kit were all carefully packed to stop water getting in. They refilled their water bottles and put away the collapsible storage containers.
    Then it was the same routine: Paulo in the lead, same order behind. Count ten metres, check map, adjust position if necessary, move on.
    Amber noticed Alex’s face as they got back into the rhythm. ‘You’re still loving this, aren’t you?’
    Alex nodded.
    ‘Glad somebody is.’ Amber shivered. Normally she’d get warm if she was walking but they weren’t able to move fast enough to do that, and the constant stopping was frustrating. Not only that, but her bite and the wounds from the wait-a-while plant were sore. She’d put more antiseptic on but the infection had taken hold. She’d just have to keep putting the cream on. Six more days of this began to seem like a very long time.
    ‘You know what?’ said Hex. ‘I’ve come up with this theory for surviving the jungle. Don’t go near it.’ The camp had been an escape; now once again he was battling the nagging branches, the leaves in his